


An Android Walks Into a Bar...

by universal_reno



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Chris is a good bro, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Drinking, Drunk Connor, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, He was not designed for the nightlife, Hurt/Comfort, Poor Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sick Character, Sick Connor, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universal_reno/pseuds/universal_reno
Summary: Connor overdoes it at a party and Chris and Hank help him out





	An Android Walks Into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Have some more pure, self-indulgent Connor whump. I have no idea why I keep doing this to the poor boy. Must be those damn puppy eyes. ~~Also how many fics does this make from me that involve someone getting plastered? I write my life, y'all~~

Androids weren’t designed to drink. Connor was aware of this when he raised the first beer of the night to his lips, but under the circumstances he calculated the negative social consequences of not doing so as being more severe than any damage likely to result from proceeding. Seven months after returning to work following the revolution he was just beginning to truly integrate into the DPD community and the last thing he wanted was to be seen as ‘that plastic prick with the stick up its ass’ as Gavin so eloquently put it.

The whole office had gathered to give Chris a good send-off before he departed for three months of paternity leave following the birth of his second child. Even before he’d deviated Connor had assessed Chris to be a likely ally, and since then he’d grown to genuinely like the man. He was hard working and fair and ever since the night when Markus had spared his life he’d made a real effort to educate himself about the issues facing deviant androids. Little surprise, then that he was the first to notice Connor was struggling.

“You alright, man?” Chris leaned against the wall beside Connor. The android was staring down at his mostly empty glass as though it had personally offended him. In fact focusing on one thing just helped him block out how much the rest of the room was wavering in front of his eyes.

“Yes, fine. Thank you. My congratulations to you and your wife.” Connor was glad Cyberlife had installed the social protocol package from their domestic models to augment his skills as a negotiator. In fact he felt anything but fine and it was a relief to let his programming handle the interpersonal aspects of the situation for him. He was tied up with running a self-diagnostic to determine how much of what he’d been drinking had managed to filter into his system. The answer was apparently enough to make his diagnostic program crash. He swayed a bit on his feet, LED flashing red when he received the error notification.

“Thanks.” Chris gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and took the glass away. “Looks like maybe you’ve had enough. Don’t tell me Hank’s bad habits are rubbing off on you.”

In fact Hank appeared to be holding up much better. He was talking to Fowler on the other side of the room, looking none the worse for being on his fifth beer. Chris tried to motion for him to come over but it went unnoticed.

“The lieutenant’s consumption of alcohol has declined 48.7% over the past six months” Connor offered in a reflexive effort to defend his partner’s reputation. Now that he didn’t have the glass to focus on the way the room seemed to be spinning was impossible to ignore. He closed his eyes and pressed one hand as delicately as he could manage to his lips, taking a deep unnecessary breath.

“If you could excuse me for a moment.” He forced his eyes open to find the side door a few feet away. Chris was one step ahead of him, though, and guided him forward with a gentle hand on his back. He held the door open and Connor stumbled out into the alley behind the bar. A moment later he was on his knees beside the gutter bringing up everything he’d had to drink.

It was inevitable, really. Connor had no way to process liquids but he was aware that humans found the method by which he'd been designed to purge containments to be objectionable. That was why he’d held off long enough for the ethanol to begin leeching into his bloodstream in the first place. He was surprised, then, to feel Chris’s hand on his back again.

“Easy, Con. You okay?”

“I assure you it’s a recognized error condition” Connor choked out as soon as he was able. Recognized or not the chemicals he was no longer able to purge were making it much worse. Even with his eyes closed he could still feel the way the world swum around him. His throat burned from the repeated alcohol exposure and if he hadn’t known it to be impossible he would have sworn something in his torso was cramping. He tried to stand anyway, just to prove his point, but Chris easily kept him down.

“Yeah, but still. Take a second, okay?”

Connor nodded. His accelerometer must have been glitching because he found that he was leaning against Chris at an odd angle. His diagnostic program still wasn’t functioning at full capacity but he was at least able to gather that the volume of fluid in his body had returned to normal levels. It was a nasty shock, then, when his purge routine kicked in again.

His analysis program informed him that the substance rising in his throat was Thirium but he was unable to stop himself from throwing it up anyway. Chris’s hand moved to his shoulder to keep him upright which was suddenly far too difficult to manage on his own.

“Shit, how much did you drink?” Chris felt a stab of panic when he saw blue and realized what was happening. He knelt down beside Connor and guided him to lay on his side with his head in his lap once the fit had passed. Connor felt warmer than he had only a minute ago and flinched at the feel of the cool, damp asphalt through his jeans.

“You’re alright. What do you need me to do?” Chris was honestly at a bit of a loss. He knew the basics about android hardware – he’d been researching buying one to help his wife back before things got weird – but he wasn’t a technician by any means. He was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to puke up their own blood, though. He glanced back at the door to the bar, then pulled out his phone and texted Hank.

_Come out back. Connor’s sick_

Connor allowed himself a moment to rest against Chris before he tried to run a diagnostic again. He made a quiet, almost pained sound when it failed halfway through.

“Thirium volume down 12%. Core temperature 1.7C above recommended operating range. Previous Thirium contamination detected, purged. Damage assessment could not be completed.” He shifted a bit, trying to stop the ground from biting into his side so much. “Everything is spinning and I feel like shit.”

“I bet.” Chris combed his fingers gently through Connor’s hair. The way he switched back and forth between machine and mode and deviant mode at will was strangely endearing. Lots of things about him were strangely endearing to be honest. Chris knew as well as anyone that androids were nothing to be trifled with, but even after having seen Connor shoot fellow deviants to protect himself and his colleagues he still seemed so innocent and vulnerable sometimes. 

They both jumped when the door banged against the wall behind them as it was thrown open. As soon as Hank had seen Chris’s text he’d felt dead sober, a feeling that grew even more pronounced when he saw Connor on the ground.

“What happened?” He was at Chris’s side in a second, taking one of Connor’s hands in both his own.

“He drank too much and had a bad reaction. He’s lost a fair amount of blood.”

“Blood?!” Hank used the light on his phone to get a better look at Connor who flinched when it shone in his eyes. There was no obvious damage, but he could make out flecks of Thirium on his face.

“Ah fuck, did he puke it up by any chance?” Hank suddenly sounded oddly nonchalant about the situation.

“Yeah. That and everything else. Has this happened before?”

Connor wished he could slink down a manhole cover and drown in the sewer. Surely that would be preferable to being so embarrassed in front of Hank and Chris when he felt so lousy.

“Yeah, once. Got a bad sample at a crime scene and it gave him some kinda blood poisoning or something. Scared the shit outta me, but that’s apparently how he’s designed to react.”

Hank helped Connor sit up and held him close. Connor buried his face in Hank’s jacket to hide the sapphire blush that was painting his cheeks.

“Poor kid. Think you’d have learned all you needed to know about drinking from hanging around with me.” His tone was lightly teasing but his sympathy was obviously genuine. He let Connor cling to him for a minute longer, rubbing his back in gentle circles.

“C’mon, lets get you home. Think you can stand or do I need to carry you?”

“I’m sufficiently functional.” Connor would have stood up on his own if it had killed him. This was humiliating enough without Hank trying to pick him up like an exhausted child. He leaned heavily on his partner who kept an arm around his shoulders but managed to look over at Chris and more or less actually focus on him.

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry about all this.” He flashed a shaky smile and was relieved when Chris smiled back and gave his arm a friendly squeeze.

“It happens. No big deal. You should’ve seen Gavin after last year’s Christmas party. I thought we were gonna have to call the paramedics.” He felt a little bad laughing about it, but less so when he saw it’d made Connor’s smile a bit more genuine.

“Thanks Chris. I’ll talk to you later. Give my regards to your wife.” Hank smiled at the younger officer before leading Connor slowly out of the alley so they could flag down a taxi.

“You don’t have to leave because of me. I can look after myself.” Connor insisted even as he stumbled a bit and held tighter to Hank’s arm.

“Yep, sure you can. But I’ve had enough and anyway I owe you one after all the times you’ve looked after my drunk ass.”

“That was no trouble. Keeping you alive is my mission, and I always complete my mission.”

Hank paused for a moment, somewhat taken aback. He tried to meet Connor’s eyes but he had them closed, trusting Hank to lead him safely to the cab.

“And who gave you that mission?”

“I…I gave it to myself, I suppose. That’s what families do, is it not?”

Hank held him a little tighter.

“Yeah kid, it sure is.”


End file.
